Brody the Obstreperous Puppy

Once upon a time (and don’t get your hopes up, it’s not one of those stories today) there was a puppy. A Puppy with No Name. Not like he was the Clint Eastwood of puppies where he roamed the Old West righting wrongs and saving towns or anything, but he was a puppy that no one owned yet, so he had no name. Until that fateful day we showed up at the breeder’s place.

“We’ll take that one!” we said. Only we didn’t say that at all. The other people there getting a dog pretty much said that. (They wanted a Westie, not a Cairn. Suckers!) They showed up, saw the puppy the breeder had, paid for it and left. It took them about 10 minutes.

We showed up, saw the puppies the breeder had, played with all three of them for a while, narrowed our choice down to two, wanted to see the mother dog, wanted to see a couple more dogs from the next litter, hemmed and hawed a little, then picked out the puppy we wanted, told the two loser puppies it wasn’t them it was us (it was them), paid the breeder and split. It all took an hour and a half.

Now we had to think of a good name for our new puppy. We already had a name picked out, but it was totally wrong for our puppy. It was a girl name since, so far, we’ve always gotten girl dogs. (The next litter had two girl dogs, so we could have used that name, but we’d have to wait three weeks and that was entirely too long.) Our puppy was a boy dog, so he definitely wasn’t a “Maisy”. As it turned out, he’s a “Brody”. Brody MacDuff DeDay. It’s a name with flow, innit? The perfect name for a little reddish-wheatenish-creamish little baby Cairn Terrier. (No pictures yet. Maybe later this week. We’ll see.)

Well, a dog this good, this fine, this super-cute (He’s so cute even the cat has to play with him. Even though he keeps putting the little puppy chomp on the cat and she’s not crazy about those little needle sharp puppy teeth.), not really all that bright, he needs a special toy. So I went searching for that toy.

My quest took me to Darkest Africa. Since I couldn’t see anything with it being so dark, I figured I’d pitch my tent and wait for daylight. This wasn’t such a good idea since it was too dark to see where the tent got pitched, and the bugs were really bad. I should have just set up the tent instead of throwing it around.

The next day I saw I wasn’t in Africa at all. At least not the regular Africa. I was in some sort of Alternate Reality Africa. The Africa that was made out of the fake sheepskin and had a squeaker inside. This really worked to my favor since this particular Africa had little alligators made out of fake sheepskin and they had squeakers inside too. So instead of getting eaten by Wildebeests or Gnus or something which would have happened in Regular Africa (I’m sure), I grabbed a fake sheepskin alligator with a squeaker and Brody just loves it.

Squeaka, squeaka, squeak! goes the alligator. Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeaka, squeaka, squeaka, squeaka, squeaka, squeak! Until I can’t take it anymore and have to take Mr. Chompy away from the little guy and make him play with his chew bone. No squeaker in there! Nuh-uh! It’s a much better toy, now that I think about it.

(I’m not even going to tell you about the Unusual Incident in the Nighttime. It’s not pretty, you don’t want to know, and it’s all over and done with now anyway so why dwell on the past?)

You know what I miss is puppy breath. There’s nothing else quite like it except for, of course, other puppy breath. It’s always the same, be it Poodle or Pommeranian, and it’s always good. We should all be so lucky.

Good for you, Rue. Actually, I can’t quite imagine you without a dog. It just… fits.

So, I take it the Unusual Incident in the Nighttime was even worse than Brody almost poopin’ down the kitchen register? See, now I’ve just got to know all about it! Tell us Rue. We wanna know. And we still want pictures of Brody. Pictures of him with Mr. Chompy, whose first name should be Rippy.

A good time was had by all at the cookout Saturday at the swampcave. I knew exactly 7 of the about 30 people there but it was still fun. My friends and all their relations were so overjoyed that I let em have their family get together at the pool! They even brought all the food and stuff! Ok, I did make baked beans but all the other stuff was brought in by them. Ok, I did grill burgers and dogs but they brought the burgers and dogs to be grilled. Ok, we had to make the burgers cause what was actually brought was ground beef but I didn’t have to do the making, just the grilling. I didn’t really have to do the grilling but I am kinda funny about who I let mess around with my grill so I did. It was a good time.

Now I want a puppy! I don’t think my two kitties would like that too much though. And my landlord definitely wouldn’t! Puppy pictures would be a good start though… hint, hint. :stuck_out_tongue:

I’ve gotta get my report done TODAY because it’s got to be to one of the newspapers by the end of the day OR ELSE. Not sure OR ELSE what, but it sounded dire. So I’m going to get it done asap to avoid finding out exactly OR ELSE what.

You know what I like about puppies even better than the breath, lieu? The cottony feel of the puppy fur. Puppies have the best fur.

Are you sure you want to hear about it Swampy? The story is puppy-butt-centric just so you know. There’s still time to wave me off on it.

Is the Unusual Incident in the Nighttime the fact that the alligator didn’t squeak?

rue, perhaps you should bring brody, to my house for a play date with the Anachi dogs. Every one of them is a master of the art of stuffy disemboweling. We never worry much about squeakers here, I can tell you that! Nope, we only have to worry about stuffy guts everywhere. When a new toy comes to the house, I can almost here it’s pathetic little voice when it sees all the stuffy skins layin’ around. [Mr. Bill voice]OHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO[/Mr. Bill voice]. Fortunately the end is swift.

What is it about puppy breath, lieu? Why does everybody jones (myself included) for a whiff of sumpin’ what smells vaguely skunky? And why does it go away?

swampy how was your weather for the pool party? We’re still getting rain, rain, and yet more rain. Last week we had enough rain to match the normal amount for the month. The fungusus are sprouting among us. :smiley:

Yesterday warn’t too bad though, just a normal afternoon shower what was typical of mini-monsoon season.

I have more good news! My team leader who I thought was leaving is going to stay. The big corporate office put the kabash on the position he interviewed for. I feel bad that I’m happy about that. Not that bad, though, cause I’m not as nice as fcm.

Tupug The Not So Nice.

You know, of course, that this just makes me want to know that much more.

Puggy it was really cloudy Saturday morning and got really really dark for a while early in the morning. I was in town getting some propane and ice and stuff and thought the bottom was gonna fall out of the sky. It cleared up though. The afternoon and yesterday afternoon were really nice. We got a small shower late yesterday afternoon. We’ve got lots of chances for rain this week as it looks like stuff is coming in from the Gulf of Mexico and heading our way. No hurricane or tropical storms just normal gulf stormy stuff.

Puppy bellies! They’re so incredby sweet when they’re still hairless.

Puppy breath is not stinky, Tupug Anachi. It smells wonderful, sort of like a combination of coffee and penut butter. It goes away because the bacteria in a puppy’s stomach slowly changes after they stop drinking milk and start eating dog food.

This weekend I had to take my dog in to the clinic to donate some blood since the dog that needed it needed whole blood, cells and plasma. She was a former blood donor (universal donor blood type) who lived there until she recently semi-retired due to us carrying supplied packed red blood cells and her room got ripped up due to remodeling. I weighed her while she was there and she’s gained 3 pounds since I brought her home!

The thing is I don’t overfeed her but she has recently found the secret to getting to the cat’s food and she will quickly eat 9 bowls worth of cat leftovers because she knows that any minute I will catch her and kick her butt. So, in addition to finding a better way to reinforce the gate that keeps her out of the cat feeding area, I will also have to buy her some diet food and possibly start taking her on long walks around the block. Since I have also gained a few extra pounds that will have the added benefit of getting me to exercise as well. She’s also very strong so when I poop out* after a block, she can drag me home. *(I won’t literally be pooping, since I don’t do that outside.)

I never thought about it before, but it makes sense that there would have to be blood donors for pets. Or animal companions, as my friend from PETA keeps telling me to call them.

Happy Monday, y’all.

I haven’t had a puppy since Scamper was a pup. At that was 30-some years ago. I forget what puppy breath smells like, and what puppy bellies and fur feels like. I’m jealous.

And why dja pick Brody for a name, Rue? I have a guy friend who’s named Maisey (although that’s his last name.)

Silenus’s Secret Sure-Fire Way To Get The Girl (or Boy, whatever) - Let them see you play with the puppy. Not just Tug-of-War or Fetch, mind you. You have to get down on the floor and Play With The Puppy. Biting and snarling are encouraged. For some reason, this activity melts the hearts and nether regions of prospective lust-objects and makes you seem like the Catch-Of-The-Week.

Penis ensues.

Use this information wisely. :smiley:

Brody is “Brody” because that’s a Scottish name, Sean. Since the Cairn Terrier is a Scottish dog, we thought he should have a Scottish name. It’s only fair. So we found a Scottish Boy Name site (because there’s everything on the Internet, sommers) (not really, but lots of stuff) and the Little Woman looked down the list of names until she found one she liked. Although technically the name they had was “Brodie”, but we switched it to a “y” instead of the “ie” just because.

Right now is probably the only time little Brode-ster gets a stuffy toy Puggy. When he has run of the house, Lucy will be able to get at his toys. Lucy is a Dog Toy Destroyer. She needs dog toys sized up for Labs and stuff. (Her NylaBone is “wolf” size.) Regular toys for little dogs (she’s only 12 pounds, so yeah, she’s little) don’t last any time at all.

Since Brody is also a terrier, I think he’s going to be pretty rough on toys too. I forsee many shredded things in our future.

Most Greyhounds (I think all of them, but I’m not sure enough just to say “all Greyhounds” so I’m hedging) are universal doggy blood donors. A lot of them, after they are done racing, get a gig being professional donors. A lot of Greyhounds, after they are done racing, don’t get a gig doin’ nuthin’. (Sad, but true.)

OK Swampy, the Tale of the Unusual Incident in the Nighttime. (It’s not the very most worst thing that could have happened, but it’s kinda ick.)

Last week, in the middle of the night, Brody had to “go out”. Since he’s just a little puppy, I went with him.

So he sniffs around for a second and then procedes to poop. But when he seems to be done, he’s still in “poop position”. He doesn’t think he’s done, but nothing more is coming out. So I shine the flashlight on his butt. There’s something stuck in there.

This happens all the time, really. The dogs play and when they bite on each other, they’ll swallow some hair and it’ll “go through”, but get stuck making its egress. It happens.

Only this wasn’t a hair. I couldn’t tell quite what it was. But Brody wasn’t having any luck shifting it. So I went back inside to get a paper towel to “take care of the situation”.

I pick up the dog and get his tail out of the way and do what I have to do with the paper towel. Grab and yank. Brody is not pleased with the happenings, and yelps a little.

You know what he had stuck in his butt? (Do you really care? Even if you don’t really care, you’re already this far, so you might as well finish it up.) A piece of plastic. The plastic the frosting for Toaster Strudels is packed in.

If you never had Toaster Strudels, they are like fancy Pop Tarts that you heat up and then squirt some frosting on out of these little plastic blister packs. You cut the tab off the blister and then just squirt the frosting out on your hot Toaster Strudel. Yummy!

Well, sometimes when you (Not “you” you, and I have my suspicions who had the fatefull Strudel, but I’m not saying. I don’t want to rat her out.) cut the little tab off the frosting blister, it falls on the floor. Where a puppy might eat it. And then it travels through the highways and byways of said puppy. And since it’s plastic, it doesn’t digest.

All in all, it was best I had the puppy out last night instead of the Little Woman.

And then we came back in, went back to bed, and everything was just fine.


Yeah, that works on me. But I’m easy–it’s enough just to scritch the puppy’s ears. That makes me melt.

Darn you, Rue, you’re making me want a puppy. I can’t have a puppy. Two rabbits, that’s enough. Although the Unusual Incident in the Nighttime could make me think twice about wanting a puppy.

That’s true but my dog is not a greyhound. We did have a blood donor greyhound and she was his companion. We retired him and gave him to a greyhound rescue group to find a home for since they educate people well on what to expect with the breed. My dog was a mutt, pitt bull and cattle dog, who we rescued from a bad puppyhood and a few of us tried her at home for a while but in one case the previous dog hated her and in my case, she played too rough with my older dogs. I had taken her to the clinic because someone said they knew someone who wanted her, but that person never showed up to claim her. Then there’d be another possible adopter who would never show. In the meantime she and the greyhound became best pals and we ended up keeping her as a backup donor and companion. Everyone would take them out and play with them so they weren’t neglected.

She was also the universal blood type and just over 50 pounds. A 50 pound dog can donate a whole unit which is 500mL’s but we usually only used her for smaller amounts. When we started carrying pRBC’s, we had no need for an onsite canine donor and only needed “backup donors” for the occasional whole blood needs or when we are overdrawn at the blood bank. Backup donors are usually staff pets.

However we still keep cat donors because purchasing cat blood from blood banks is cost prohibitive and we can never be sure when we will need it so much of it would expire without being used, making it even more cost prohibitive. Our donors probably only give blood 3 to 4 times a year and it’s best to have them onsite (as opposed to volunteers*) because the blood is always available and we know they haven’t been running around getting exposed to nasty viruses.
*cats never really volunteer for things.
They get retired after a few years and adopted out, although some become clinic cats where they just live there but never give blood again because everyone’s too attached to see them leave.

This is exactly how Mr. Lissar got my parents to love him, right after we met. Except for the lust part, I hope. They loooved that he would get down on the floor and play with the dog (who is the favourite child, and they always left him in charge when they went away).
I feel crappy. I got up and nearly fainted. I’ve got to eat something and then get to work. I hope I’m not getting sick because I’m working pretty nearly straight through till next Monday. Urk.

Years back, I was running a geochem project near Pensacola and most of our work was done in very rural, primitive areas, usually in the deep woods on logging trails. 25 miles or so back on one of these, I was surprised to see what I at first though was a bear cub. As it turned out, it was a puppy that I can only guess someone drove back to this remote place and dumped. He was so little and scared, screaming for dear life as I chased him down (I’m pretty sure he’d been abused and was terrified of people) and hungry… Lordy, was he hungry. He 'bout took my fingers off when I gave him my sandwich and some water but pretty quickly he got over his fear of people and we became inseperable.

Every day he and I would leave the motel I’d snuck him into and head out to the woods to collect samples. He’d follow along, stumbling head first over even small brush, and as I’d dig post holes into the wet cool sand he’d lay in the pile and loved having me pour the sand on top of him. I named him “Booger” because he was a cute little one. There for 6 weeks, he’d grown to the point where he could follow me effortlessly into even dese brush over time and we truly became close pals.

But I eventually was going to have to fly home to my apartment which didn’t allow pets and I was, sadly, forced to find my Booger a home. So, a couple of my work pals and I went to Pensacola beach one Saturday in the hope of finding a suitable adopter. Now Booger, being a puppy, loved everybody and was curious about everything. Even a large hole dug into the beach sand couldn’t contain his puppyness. Finally, I had to run to the store where I bought a bandana and some kite string. The bandana went around his neck and the kite string around the bandana. Booger was now a furry bat kite.

About noon, we see four beauties strolling down the beach. Whirrrrrr as I reel out Booger. He ran straight up to a beautiful blond, also endowed with spectacular boosums. She also turned out to be wonderfully nice and kind, so Booger was either very smart or very smart. After talking to her for awhile and then dating her for a week just to be sure, she became Booger’s new Mom… or vice versa.

I still wonder about them sometimes and feel very lucky to have come across such an adorable, loveable, and obviously needy Booger. That was one cute pup… and I’m glad Booger picked me.

I’m glad to see lieu hanging around in the MMP. Hiya!

Since we’re talking animules, I’m gonna relate a weird story. It’s not about dogs, but cats. Bear with me.

BSMF went over to a friend’s house on Saturday, a friend whose house is FILLED with cats. Okay, maybe there’s only 2 or 3 cats, but the way they run around, it feels like more. Anyway, BSMF gets home, and we “get close” <snerk> and guess what? It turns out I’m so allergic to cats, that just being close to someone who’s been around cats is enough to get me itchy and welty. It was not fun. Definitely a buzzkill.

Oh, yeah, the hair/poop thing. :stuck_out_tongue: :stuck_out_tongue: For some reason my Jade likes to chew on the Princess[sup]TM[/sup]‘s hair…so we’re familiar with that. One time my dear departed Natash extruded a chicken bone. She’d been garbage pickin’ so don’t nobody thrash me bout givin’ her chicken bones. :wink: How that bone managed to go through her system nearly whole then get hung up, erm, you know, is beyond me. :rolleyes:

lieu, do you suppose booger’s name got changed after the transfer? :wink:

Lissla, nearly faintin’ isn’t a good thing to happen! Less of course you might be in a delicate condition, or sumpin.’ I’m just sayin’ is all.

I’m scarred for life. Not only will I never eat another Toaster Strudel again, but I’ll probably skip the wrapper as well.

Cute name for the puppy. Makes me think of John Brodie, all-around great person whom I had the pleasure of meeting back in the 70s.

scout, sorry about the felinous interuptus. You must be super-sensitive to all things cattish. Better luck next time!